


The Greatest Loss

by smirkslightly



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, One Shot, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14892668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smirkslightly/pseuds/smirkslightly
Summary: "Zoro's grief felt like a spiraling spider web, getting caught on random things, unable to untangle itself from everyday words and normal phrases, setting him off into a torrent of pain."When Zoro is faced with unimaginable loss, he is more lost then ever before. How will he find the strength he needs to cope?





	The Greatest Loss

“Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.” ~ Rousseau

* * *

 

Zoro stared at his ceiling fan dully.

There was a large dust bunny sitting in between the propellers of his fan and every time they turned, it slowly inched closer to falling from it and drifting into the space between Zoro and the ceiling.

Zoro had been watching it for a long time, wondering when it would fall.

It had been almost an hour and it hadn’t yet.

He had a feeling he was probably supposed to get up and do something, be somewhere. He was pretty sure one of his friends had made him promise to do this something, but he wasn’t sure. And he didn’t want to check.

He wanted to wait first until that dust bunny fell from the fan. And then he wanted to see where it landed. He wondered if it would somehow land right on his nose?

His phone rang beside him. It made him jolt slightly in his bed- his single bed. It was still new, and Zoro was adjusting to it. He’d thrown the old one out.

The phone distracted him from the fan, so he turned his bloodshot eyes toward it obediently. The room looked very blurry.

He squinted towards where the blob of colour was vibrating on his night stand. He lifted up the bottle that was currently sitting snug against his chest and took a sip of whatever was in there.

Whisky. Cheap whisky that was warm and gross. He spilled some and it dripped over his chest and into his hair. It dampened his new pillow.

He sighed and blinked trying to refocus on the phone.

But it’d stopped ringing.

He grumbled to himself for wasting time and turned to pay attention to the ceiling fan again.

The dust bunny was still teetering on the very edge of the fan.

And then his phone rang again.

He felt annoyed, or at least he felt, beyond the mind-numbing effects of the alcohol, something like annoyance. He took another long pull of the Whiskey, draining the bottom of the bottle. He chucked the bottle towards the bottom of his bed. He heard it thud heavily on the carpet, and then roll into the wall. It didn’t break, not that it mattered.

Zoro reached out and tried to grab for his phone. His hand grossly misread the distance though, and he only slapped bare air. He managed to slam his palm on the table, and finally gripped the stupid ringing annoyance before he brought it closer to his face.

It was hard to make out the name at first, but if he squinted enough he could see Luffy spelled out in white letters on the screen.

He considered not answering it, but with a long drunken sigh, did anyways.

“Luffy,” He greeted.

“Zoro!” Luffy said, his loud voice ringing in Zoro’s ear like a church bell. He pulled the phone a few inches away from his face.

He heard voices in the background that sounded angry. But Luffy talked over them quickly.

“Where are you Zoro?” Luffy asked. He didn’t sound accusatory, just curious, as if he thought Zoro was probably doing something interesting.

Zoro blinked as he looked around his bedroom. It took him a moment to recognize the place. He kept forgetting that he’d taken down all the pictures and sold all the furniture. All he saw now was a bare room, with sea grey walls, and liquor bottles settled softly in off white carpet…

“Apartment,” he grunted, closing his eyes for a moment, and turning to focus on the fan and the stupid dust bunny again.

He heard more angry voices on the other end. Nami’s came out the loudest.

“Give me the phone-” she was saying. Probably yelling at Luffy.

But Luffy must have ignored her yet again because he spoke, in that same cheery voice that Zoro had always known.

“Are you coming out to meet us?” he asked, calmly. “You said you’d be here.”

“Meet you?” Zoro echoed, quietly. He couldn’t remember what Luffy was referring to and didn’t try to. He had no interest in moving from his bed today. It was just a task that was much too insurmountable. He had to know what the dust bunny was going to do. Where it was going to fall. Maybe after that, he would force himself to move to the living room and turn on the TV. Maybe he’d even order some take out. He probably hadn’t consumed any real food for a while, only booze.

“Yeah, meet us for Vivi’s birthday party,” Luffy said, calm still, no hint of anger. “You said you’d come, remember?”

Zoro heard Luffy’s words but didn’t really register them. It took a few more turns of the fan to finally understand that Luffy wanted him to go outside of the apartment to a party.

The idea was almost laughable.

But Zoro didn’t laugh. He wasn’t sure his face could even form a smile anymore, it’d been forever since he’d tried.

“Can’t go,” he told Luffy. “Sorry.”

“That’s OK,” Luffy said after a short pause. “I understand… but Zoro… this is the last time alright?”

“The last time?” Zoro echoed again.

“The last time you can bail. Otherwise I’m coming to get you.”

Luffy said it in that same cheery way he did, but for some reason Zoro could sense the threat or the promise or whatever it was underneath it. Luffy’s voice actually carried some weight to it, so even as Luffy said it, Zoro had a feeling it would stick in his mind.

He felt a small stirring of guilt, but it was again buried under a large numbness.

“Yeah OK,” Zoro answered.

“OK, talk to you later Zoro,” Luffy replied.

“Bye.”

They hung up.

Zoro glanced at the ceiling fan.

The dust bunny was gone.

* * *

 

_Many Gibbons are hard to identify based on the coloration of their fur, so most are identified by song or genetics…_

Zoro watched the documentary on Animal Planet, while eating a small meal of take out, and drinking beer.

It’d been a long day, although not entirely hopeless. He’d managed to get out of bed a bit earlier and had gone through a simple workout routine. He’d managed not to drink straight away to cure his hangover and was only now having a beer with his dinner. This was something he’d used to do all the time. He thought it was appropriate.

_The Gibbon is one of nature’s best brachiators. Its superb wrist joints allow them unmatched speed and accuracy when swinging from branch to branch…_

He had even agreed to meet Luffy for a walk soon. Luffy would be picking Zoro up at five, and Zoro was determined to remember it.

He ate his dinner, focusing on it and not on his disaster of an apartment. Weeks of staying holed up in here, had turned the once impeccable place into a trash heap. Dust coated everything, trash bags were lined up beside the door full of take out boxes, and bottles of booze, clothes, and dirty underwear where thrown haphazardly around the place. Not to mention the large hole in the wall by the front door, that still had dust and drywall piled underneath it. There were also hastily filled boxes stacked up in the living room and behind the couch, as if Zoro was moving out. He wasn’t though. He’d tried to move out of this place, but he couldn’t afford to pay to break his lease, and he couldn’t afford to pay rent for two places. So, he was stuck here. At least it was unrecognizable from what it used to be… no matter how gross it was to live here now.

_The Gibbon, unlike most of its greater ape cousins, mate for life..._

Zoro reached for the remote and shut off the TV. Not wanting to hear anymore about stupid Gibbons. He didn’t even know why he was watching the nature channel, other then the fact it was something he’d never watched _before_.

He sighed and leaned back in his couch, again looking up at the ceiling. Ceilings were a safe place to look in his apartment. He’d never looked up very much _before_ and so there wasn’t much a ceiling could remind him off. Ceilings didn’t have memories. All they did was house them.

The silence was becoming stifling. Zoro clutched his beer bottle tightly in one hand, feeling the cool glass, as condensation gathered around his hands. He stared at the ceiling and waited for Luffy to buzz for him.

The silence was suddenly filled with the sounds of footsteps in the hallway. They were loud and hurried, and most certainly not Luffy’s happy skip. They sounded like it was someone who walked with confidence, someone with expensive clunky shoes. Someone who was in a hurry and was always moving insistently forward…

Zoro lifted his head hurriedly, his heart leaping for a moment as he listened to the sounds of the footsteps coming closer and closer to his door…

And then they kept going fading down the hallway until they disappeared.

Zoro stared at the door, slightly shell shocked. He pushed down the rising tide of emotions inside him desperately. He blinked back disappointed tears and downed the rest of his beer.

_Stupid._ He thought to himself. _So stupid…_

When the buzzer did sound, Zoro almost wanted to ignore it. But he got up anyways and told Luffy he’d be down in a second.

He opened the door to his apartment and didn’t look back once, as he closed the door to the place with a decided snap.

* * *

“Zoro!” Nami actually looked happy to see him. That was probably the first time she’d smiled at him like that.

Definitely the first time she’d hugged him that tightly.

“Finally,” She said with a grin at him. “I was beginning to forget your grumpy face. I’m so glad you finally made it out.”

Her tone was rather funny. It was like she was annoyed, relieved, and happy all at once.

Zoro only nodded at her, his eyes drifting past her to the tiny get together his friends were having.

Zoro forgot the reason they were having this party exactly. He was pretty sure someone had been promoted or someone had moved or something like that. He found it hard to keep track or truly care about these tiny particulars. Even _before_ he’d often forgotten birthdays and anniversaries. And now, well, it all just seemed so… pointless.

“So, do you want something to drink?” Nami asked him. Her smile again was oddly warm for her. She really seemed happy to see him. It was disarming.

Zoro nodded quickly. He needed a drink as soon as possible.

Nami gave him a small knowing look and hurried over to the bar. Another bizarre thing Nami never did. Zoro frowned as he considered Nami was probably doing it out of pity… and then found he didn’t give a shi-damn. He didn’t give a damn. If Nami wanted to wait on him, and give him drinks he wasn’t going to complain-

There was a flash of blond in the crowd. Zoro’s eyes locked on it automatically. The back of a head, slightly wavy blond hair. A man. White skin. Dark clothing.

Zoro felt his heart race. He was moving before he knew it. Pushing people aside. He knew it wasn’t possible. He _knew_ that it wasn’t possible... but…

He reached out to touch the man’s shoulder. His heart in his throat, his head buzzing uncontrollably. The man turned before Zoro could touch him. He had dark eyes, like chocolate, a star shaped scar on his face, handsome but boyishly. He glanced over at Zoro in slight surprise, and then his smile turned wide.

“Hey Zoro!” Sabo said. “Wow its been so long since I’ve seen you.”

Zoro dropped his hand.

Sabo’s smile disappeared. “Are you OK, Zoro? You don’t look so good…”

Zoro turned away without saying anything. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ say anything. He hadn’t seen Sabo in years. That must be what the party was about. Welcoming Sabo home.

“Zoro? Hey Zoro-” Sabo called. But Zoro ignored him. He headed straight through the crowd. His hands were shaking. He felt nauseous and angry.

How could he be so stupid?!

“Hey Zoro, where are you going! I got your drink-” Nami started to say, coming to stand beside him.

Zoro zeroed in on the beer in her hand, he grabbed it from her, ignoring her indignant protest, and chugged it quickly. He finished it much too fast. He wiped his mouth and shoved the bottle back at her then hurried though the crowd again.

He heard a few people calling his name in greeting, someone even touched his arm, but he moved to the door faster then they could slow him down.

He finally made it outside. He sucked in the deep night air and gripped the railing on the front porch.

He had half a mind to keep walking. To leave the party and hole up in the apartment again.

But going back there felt like a step backwards. It felt like defeat.

Going back there felt just as painful.

He leaned further on the railing and held his head in his hands. He tried to get rid of the image of blond hair in a crowd and berated himself for the unbelievably stupid hope that had ripped through him like a comet.

He heard the screen door behind him open gently.

“Zoro?” It was Robin, coming to check on him. She sounded slightly worried.

Zoro took a deep breath, focusing on the centering himself and stood up. He didn’t look at her but stared out at the lawn.

She stepped up beside him and didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Are you alright?” She whispered.

He gave her a withering look for the stupid question and looked back over the suburban lawn again. He didn’t want to look at her for very long. He didn’t want to think about the sadness in her eyes that reflected his own.

She didn’t say anything else.

After a moment, he felt her place her hand on his arm. He didn’t shake it off, and they sat there looking out at the lawn in silence.

After a long moment, Robin withdrew her hand.

“If you’re ready,” She said. “We should go back in.”

Zoro gripped the railing tightly once more, but nodded, and turned.

They walked in the house together, Robin slipping her hand under Zoro’s arm as they walked, both burdened with the silence.

* * *

 “Roronoa?” Mihawk’s voice was stern on the phone… although it was always stern. He sounded tired. Zoro could relate.

“Yeah?” He asked gruffly. The phone call wasn’t exactly at the best time. Zoro had finally decided he would venture out to the balcony today. His therapist said it was important for him to feel comfortable in his home. If he couldn’t move, then he should face each room, associate it with other things than his memories. Robin had suggested the therapist, so he decided to trust her.

The balcony wasn’t the hardest place to start but it was still hard. Even though Zoro had sold all the beautiful outdoor furniture, packed away the ashtrays, and scrubbed it clean with bleach, he could still detect scents of tobacco floating through the air. Each whiff of it hit him like a punch to the gut, eliciting more memories than he wanted to relive. But he’d stood here stubbornly anyways, until his phone had rung.

“How are you doing?” Mihawk asked next. Zoro could tell that the man was very uncomfortable voicing the question. He sounded like he dreaded Zoro’s answer. Zoro thought about telling Mihawk some bullshit about handling it and taking it day by day, just to hear him get even more uncomfortable on the phone… but he wasn’t sure he was ready to share even bullshit platitudes. Especially with Mihawk.

So instead he saved them both some pain and got straight to the point.

“Why are you calling me?” he asked. Mihawk sighed in relief on the other end. Zoro rolled his eyes. He turned away from the long skyline and faced the screen doors. He ignored the stirred-up scent of cigarettes that still, somehow, lingered here. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the present.

“I’m calling to ask when you’re coming back to work,” Mihawk said stiffly.

Zoro felt his entire body freeze up. Uncertainty and uneasiness coursed through him. He opened his eyes and saw again the screen door. The empty screen door, and the empty apartment. He turned back to the skyline.

“I’m… not sure,” He finally answered.

Mihawk sighed.

“It’s been over two months Roronoa,” Mihawk said, in a slightly softer voice then normal. Zoro wondered if this was Mihawk being _gentle._

“I know,” Zoro replied stiffly. “I’m not sure if I’m in good enough shape to go back to the dojo. I let my training-”

“I’m sure you can teach still. You’ll be able to get back into your training routine if you come back to work.”

Zoro said nothing.

Mihawk sighed. “Think about it. The substitute we have for you has their contract almost up. I can hire them again for another month, but I need to know for sure if you don’t want to come back yet. I don’t want to push you in your time of …grief. But the dojo still needs to be run.”

“I understand,” Zoro said.

“Good. Call me with your answer by Monday.”

Mihawk hung up after that, quickly. Almost like he was afraid Zoro might start crying.

Zoro smiled stiffly as he put the phone away and looked out at the skyline again. He felt very cold out here. The wind picked up slightly and again Zoro could smell tobacco.

He stood up and went back inside.

Who needed to go out to a balcony anyways?

* * *

 “How bad is it, exactly?” Usopp asked Zoro, giving him nervous sideways looks as they walked up to Zoro’s apartment.

Zoro sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Bad,” he grumbled, and fitted the key in the lock.

Usopp bit his lip but didn’t say anything else.

Zoro hesitated at the door, ready to push it open, but also wondering if he should tell Usopp any other warning. Usopp had been nice enough to agree to help Zoro clean out his apartment. He had been the only friend available when Zoro was off work. Deciding against it, knowing he couldn’t really soften the blow of his destruction and depression, he opened the door swiftly.

The smell hit them like a wall. It was mix of old food, booze and unwashed sheets. It smelled stale and stiff.

Zoro was used to the smell, honestly appreciating its disgusting waves to stave off any familiar ones. But by the way Usopp gagged, he knew it was time to cleanup.

“Fuck,” Usopp cursed. “What the hell did you do in here Zoro? Create your own community dump?”

Zoro glared and moved inside. He hesitated for a moment before flipping the light switch. He winced when the apartment lit up, brighter then it’d been in here for months, as Zoro had mostly just moved around in the dark.

He ignored the soft lighting illuminating the living room and moved forward, to the boxes staked behind it.

“Just want to get these boxes, nothing else,” He told Usopp reassuringly. Usopp who now had his shirt over his nose rather dramatically, shot Zoro a grateful look.

“Thank hell,” He mumbled. He moved behind Zoro to the large boxes. They weren’t packed very well, some of them were bulging with stuff, others had tape wrapped around them three or four times, others were open, with stuff piled in them haphazardly. It was basically the work of a very drunk packer, who had been trying not to look at the things he was packing.

“Right,” Usopp said with a firm nod. “I’ll grab the top boxes, you grab the bottom ones?”

Zoro nodded, as Usopp gripped the heavily duct taped box. Zoro turned away from it, remembering what was in there and why he’d taped it so thoroughly. He grabbed another box, this one he knew was filled with clothes, but they were also safe from sight. The others were filled with his work out stuff, his toiletries, and his assorted books, laptops and cords. He had a few other duct tapped boxes that he let Usopp get, although he watched him carefully as he moved them, afraid that Usopp might drop them, and half wishing he was brave enough to carry them himself.

Finally, the last couple boxes were cleared away, and Usopp looked at Zoro triumphantly.

“It wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. Just the smell.”

Zoro nodded slowly but he wouldn’t look Usopp in the eye.

“Actually,” He said slowly, “There’s ... one more thing.”

Usopp looked at Zoro quizzically. Zoro still didn’t look him in the eye, instead turning to stare at the hole beside the door. Usopp hadn’t asked about it yet. Zoro appreciated his tact.

“We still… we need to…” Zoro gritted his teeth, annoyed and frustrated with himself. He was being utterly stupid. It was just a _word._ And he’d already packed up the other stuff. He could do this. He was being ridiculous.

He turned to Usopp, meeting his eyes, and finally got out the simple sentence.

“We still need to pack up the kitchen.”

Zoro watched, feeling horribly guilty, as Usopp’s face drained of colour.

They both said nothing for a few long seconds, but then Usopp nodded. A strained smile on his face.

“R-right. The … kitchen.”

Zoro nodded again, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“So... you haven’t packed up like... the utensils and the equipment yet?”

“No,” Zoro said. Then after a moment, he said a bit more quietly. “I didn’t want to… mess it up.”

He couldn’t say anything further. Usopp seemed to understand anyways. He only nodded, and asked Zoro for another box. Zoro pointed numbly at the dusty and open boxes that sat, and had for a while, at the entrance to the kitchen. A place Zoro hadn’t stepped foot in for months now. His take out was his one and only source of food.

Usopp nodded again, and grabbed the box, and moved into the kitchen.

Zoro followed slowly, watching Usopp move in there with a tightness in his chest. The kitchen was so dusty, Zoro could see Usopp’s footprints on the ground. Zoro’s gut twisted with horrible guilt. He pushed it away as quickly as he could, but he still heard him, just a whisper in the back of his mind…

_What the fuck did you let happen to my kitchen Marimo?_

“OK, so should I start with like the bigger frying pans and dishes I suppose?” Usopp asked from inside the kitchen. “Then I should probably wrap the utensils in a dish cloth or something and put that on top – hey, Zoro- where are you going?”

Zoro was already moving for the door. He mumbled only a quick, “Getting some air,” to Usopp and then practically ran out into the hallway.

He ran into the elevator, half afraid Usopp would follow him or someone else walking by would see him. He got in, and hit the down button then pressed the emergency stop, letting the elevator sit in limbo between floors.

Then, and only then, did he think about the voice in his head once more.

_The fuck Marimo? What the hell did you do to my kitchen?_

Zoro felt his whole body give a jolted shudder. He gripped the side of the elevator behind him, his hands fisting uselessly against the silver metal surface. His knees felt weak, and he sank down slowly so he was half standing and half sitting on the wall.

His breathing was ragged, as he tried to remember _how_ to breath. He felt too hot, too cold. He felt like he was being ripped apart.

He closed his eyes, and saw him there, in his kitchen, where Usopp had moved a moment ago, cooking masterpieces. His body moving with that languid grace Zoro had only seen with dancers before. He saw him smoking a cigarette, and plucking it from his mouth, where he grew that stupid goatee. Zoro saw him look over his shoulder, catching Zoro watching him from the living room.

Then Zoro saw Sanji give him a wide smile, his blue eyes lighting up with happiness, happy he’d caught Zoro staring at him, elated to be in his element.

_What the fuck you staring at Moss Head? See something you like?_

Zoro let out a broken sob, no longer able to keep it inside him anymore. He’d been working on his control every since that first week, which had been a blur of pain, tears, blood, anger and more tears. But now he was breaking down again, and his walls were crumbling.

_Sanji._

Zoro’s knees gave out, he collapsed on the elevator floor, curled into a ball and sobbed into his hands.

It took him a lot longer then it should have to reign himself in. His grief felt like a spiraling spider web, getting caught on random things, unable to untangle itself from everyday words and normal phrases, setting him off into a torrent of pain. He rocked back and forth, trying to stop the flow of tears, and the inhuman sounds he was making, as his chest was ripped apart again and again. It felt like when Mihawk had sliced him but a hundred times worse. He wished he _could_ get cut by Mihawk hundred times, than feel this pain. He still had no idea how to handle it, not even with his therapy sessions, not with all his discipline. It controlled him when it took hold like this, destroying Zoro so thoroughly it felt like he was nothing but ashes when it had finally receded somewhat to semi manageable levels.

But he _did_ push it down. After a few minutes, he shakily got to his feet.

He wiped his eyes and hit the button for his floor. He got off the elevator and only paused one more moment, before he went back in his apartment.

He was immensely relieved when he saw that Usopp had packed up the kitchen, and even duct taped the boxes he’d use three or four times.

* * *

“And I was like bro...  I’m really not sure you’re getting this. I’m not a pirate, the boat is not for sail, and you are still naked.”

Franky’s story was hilarious. Everyone was laughing. Luffy was on the floor clinging to Law’s neck, trying to breath. Usopp and Nami where both clutching their stomachs. Brook was laughing in that weird ass way he did. Chopper snorted milk out his nose. Jinbe was holding his stomach as his deep laughter moved through the bar. Robin was giggling behind her hand, and even Law was snickering in the corner, although he was also glaring at Luffy in annoyance.

And Zoro was laughing too.

He hadn’t exactly meant to. It had just happened without him realizing it. It snuck up on him as he’d snorted and scoffed along with Franky’s story. And now he was laughing, it was a short and succinct laugh. But that was normal for him.

He had been laughing.

Now he was sitting there in slight shock. No one seemed surprised by Zoro’s mirth, nor did they seem to register his surprise. They only kept chatting together, grinning at each other as they did so.

Zoro excused himself to go to the bathroom.

He got there, and hung his head over the sink, staring at the water swirling down the drain, and not daring to look up at the mirror.

He felt horribly guilty.

How could he be laughing? Laughing when he was miserable all the time? Laughing when _he_ was gone?

Zoro felt ashamed.

This was different from being depressed, like he’d been. That had been a dark place. And he- _Sanji_ \- wouldn’t have wanted that. Zoro hadn’t been taking care of himself or the place they’d both loved. Sanji would have _hated_ that.

No, Zoro was working on fighting his depression. He was trying again. He had goals to accomplish, not just for himself but for those who were no longer with him.

Kuina.

Sanji.

Yes, neither of them would be proud of Zoro for burying himself in grief and sadness and hiding from the world.

But how would Sanji feel if Zoro was laughing? Having a good time, when he had only been gone for barely six months? Zoro had no right to laugh and feel happy when Sanji wasn’t there with him.

Zoro felt his chest twist as the image, unbidden came to his mind, of Sanji at that table with them, laughing just as hard as the rest of them. He would have been drunk by now. A pink tinge on his cheeks and on the bridge of his nose. He would have been wearing some prissy outfit, maybe that one outfit Zoro loved, the blue shirt, with no tie, and silver buttons. The one that made Sanji’s eyes dance, and was easy to rip off without tearing…

Sanji would have laughed so hard, he would have needed to steady himself by placing a hand on Zoro’s arm…

Zoro ducked his head further, longing, and loss and pain radiating from his heart now. He wanted nothing more in the world then to feel Sanji touch him once again. He would trade anything for even a painful kick in the shin from Sanji. He’d do anything if he could just talk to him for five more minutes.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Zoro looked up, blinking back tears swimming in his eyes.

His eyes locked with Chopper in the mirror. The young boy’s wide brown eyes caught Zoro’s and then changed from a leftover smile to concern.

“Zoro?” Chopper asked, moving closer to him, worry radiating off him. “Are you OK? What’s wrong?”

Zoro stepped back from the mirror and forced a half smile on his face. “Fine. It’s nothing.”

Chopper only stared at him worriedly. So, Zoro patted him on the head. “You have to piss right? Better get to it.”

Zoro turned away from the young kid, heading quickly for the door. But he wasn’t fast enough, as Chopper called after him.

“Wait!”

Zoro paused, looking back at Chopper.

The young doctor was staring at him with an odd look. He looked older for some reason, his eyes heavy with sadness.

Zoro looked away. That sadness was in all his friends. He hated looking at it, knowing it reflected his own so well. The sadness of a friend dead between them.

“It’s just…” Chopper started to say. “I just wanted to say… I think that S-Sanji-” Chopper paused for a moment, as if assessing if the name would send Zoro spiraling. When it didn’t Chopper continued.

“He’d want you to be happy Zoro. It’s OK to be happy.”

Zoro didn’t agree exactly with Chopper, but the sentiment was touching.

He gave Chopper a nod, unable to say anything else, and slipped out of the bathroom to the distracting lights and sounds outside it.

* * *

“Cannon Ball!” Luffy’s scream was the only warning before a huge splash had drenched the pool side party goers.

“Luffy!” Nami screamed at him, her face livid with rage. “You little freak! I’ll punch your stupid head out, I’m wearing _white_!”

Luffy shook his water drenched hair out of his eyes and grinned up at Nami.

Nami, who was standing by an equally drenched Vivi, glared at him in an irate temperament. She then scanned the drenched crowd looking for someone to agree with her.

But the only people that were by the pool, didn’t seem to care about getting a bit wet. Zoro included, merely shook off the excess water, and went back to sipping his ice tea. His therapist had suggested he cut back on the drinking. It only seemed to send him into a dark place and didn’t help his depression.

Nami looked around at the sea of faces, and then turned back to Luffy, her anger obviously spurring on her next words.

“Get out here! You owe me for drenching me!”

“No way!” Luffy said, backing up further into the water. “It's your fault for standing by the pool!”

“Ugh!” Nami growled. “Sanji! Help me get Luffy-”

Nami cut herself off mid sentence. Her face paled, and she looked like someone had slapped her.

Everyone else who’d heard her also seemed to freeze. And since Nami had been screaming, it was practically the whole party.

Zoro also felt like he’d been slapped. Sanji’s name rang around the pool side, and he realized that if Sanji had been here, he’d already have tackled Luffy on Nami’s behalf.

A sick feeling twisted in Zoro’s chest. He saw a few people glance back at him almost nervously. But most people were focused on Nami.

Nami stepped away from the pool edge. She looked like she might be sick.

“I mean…” She trailed off, her eyes looking past Luffy at the drink in her hand. Her lower lip wobbled.

Vivi hastily reached out to wrap an arm around Nami’s shoulders.

“It’s OK,” She said in a hushed tone. “It’ll be OK.”

“No- no it won’t,” Nami said. And Zoro watched as a tear raced down her cheek. “I … I just totally forgot. And it won’t... It won’t be the same…”

Vivi quickly moved away with Nami, who had buried her face in her hands. They walked swiftly from the pool to inside the house.

Zoro stared after her numbly.

Nami was right. It would never be the same.

A loud splash had his attention turning to watch Luffy get out of the pool. His face was ducked, and his hair was in his eyes, shadowing them, his mouth was, for once, not smiling but pressed together in a tight line.  He said nothing to any of them and moved quickly away.

The party wasn’t exactly as fun after that, and Zoro was much too sober to face it.

He thought about going into the house to talk to Nami, or following Luffy around to the back of the pool. But he’d seen Jinbe head after Luffy, and Nami had Vivi.

Plus, he’d only get in the way. After all he was no good at comforting. And even less good at knowing how to handle the absence of Sanji.

Instead he moved to the bar. Screw sobriety. He needed a drink.

The bar had a few people that he didn’t know. The house parties that Franky and Robin threw sometimes incorporated guests outside their usual circle. Work friends, or friends from Franky’s boat club. People they invited to be polite, but who never came back again. Not everyone could handle Luffy’s crazy antics.

He reached the bar and ordered a whisky as fast as possible. Coby was playing bartender at the moment, and gave Zoro a nervous understanding smile, before going to fulfill his order.

“So... who exactly is this Sanji?” Zoro heard someone ask from his left.

He felt his heart stop in his chest, frozen like a fossil, as his whole body stilled.

“He was a friend of Robin’s who died earlier this year,” Someone answered them. Again, someone Zoro didn’t know.

He swallowed and glared at the alcohol bottles aligning the tiny pool bar in front of him. He tried to focus on something else and tune out the conversation beside him.

But he was unsuccessful.

“What happened to him?” The first person asked. It was a woman’s voice, she sounded slightly haughty and the way she asked, was filled with gossipy curiosity. Zoro’s hand tightened into a fist. Where the hell was his drink?

“I’m not too sure,” The second voice replied. It was another woman, but with a gentler tone to it then the first. “I think it was an accident of some sort. I believe it was a fire.”

_A fire. There was a fire at the Baratie. Someone had accidentally set fire to the Baratie. Sanji’s old man was dead. He had been trapped and died of smoke inhalation._

“Robin and her friends were very close to him. I believe he left a partner behind too,” the second women continued.

“Oh, how tragic!” the first women replied, sounding horribly fake.

_Sanji was hurt. He had severe burns on his body. Everyone was at the hospital waiting for news. The waiting room was packed. And everyone was crying._

“He was a five-star chef though,” the second woman said happily. “Robin raved about his meals.”

“Its sad we’ll never get to taste them.”

_You have no idea what a treat you’re in for Moss head. My meals are the best. I’m going to blow your mind. I’m going to change your world._

 Zoro finally felt a touch of cool glass at his fingertips. He grabbed his whisky and took off, not wanting to hear anymore of the lady's conversation and not wanting to hear anymore of the voices of the past whispering in his head.

He downed the whisky in one go.

* * *

“Ah Zoro,” Brook said, looking at Zoro with large sad eyes. “I thought I might see you here.”

Zoro was more then a bit surprised to find someone else at the graveyard. He was visiting because it was their anniversary. Not any big anniversary, but their own tiny private one. It was the anniversary of the first time they’d kissed.

It was a stupid anniversary, one that Zoro had never really liked celebrating. He had always thought there were already too many anniversaries to remember. Their first date, or their wedding (if they had ever gotten to it) would have been dates that Zoro would have understood. But a kiss? Zoro had thought that was too small a thing to celebrate, too much of a pain to remember. He already had a lot of dates to get flowers for Sanji on, it had seemed like a hassle.

But Sanji had liked it. He’d always woken Zoro up with a kiss on this day, subtly reminding him of their first one. He’d always given Zoro homemade chocolate kisses, that were unsweetened and made of the dark chocolate that Zoro loved. The best part for Zoro had been the sex, which of course, featured a lot of kissing, not that he minded.

But he’d still thought it was stupid.

_“_ _It’s good to celebrate the small things Marimo,” Sanji had insisted. “Love is in the details.”_

Sanji had always been a gigantic sappy romantic fool.

So here Zoro was, at Sanji’s grave, with a light summer rain soaking his shirt, and a bouquet of flowers to lay at his gravestone.

Sanji was still a pain in the ass even in death, always making Zoro do ridiculous things…

It was a random day in any case. Which is why he was surprised to see Brook standing forlornly at Sanji’s grave stone as well. 

“Brook,” Zoro greeted stiffly. He wasn’t sure how to greet someone at Sanji’s grave. He had yet to see anyone but himself here, besides at the funeral. It wasn’t like he didn’t want Brook here; his presence was just … jarring.

“I suppose you’d like me to give you two a minute alone,” Brook said with a sad smile at Zoro.

Zoro opened his mouth to protest, awkwardly, but Brook put a hand up to cut him off.

“No need to be polite Zoro. I completely understand. I’ve already taken up enough of Sanji’s time, and I'm sure he’ll want to talk to you now. Besides this is not the first friend’s grave I have visited today, and I should get on to say hello to a few more.”

Zoro stared at Brook feeling slightly shocked at this declaration. He supposed it made sense though. Brook was old. He often told them that many of his friends were dead now. Zoro knew this. But the fact that Brook had more then Sanji’s grave to visit made Zoro feel sympathy for the old man like he had never felt before. He knew what it was like now, to visit multiple graves. More than two would be horrible. Devastating. Zoro could hardly handle one death.

Brook was handling many more.

Brook gave Zoro another small smile, and a clap on the shoulder.

But as Brook moved past, Zoro blurted out a question before he had really thought it through.

“Does it ever get easier?” he asked.

Brook paused and stared at Zoro quizzically. “What gets easier?”

Zoro shifted slightly, feeling uncomfortable, but then lifted his head. “I mean … does visiting your friends graves… losing people… everything about it… does it get easier?”

Brook looked at Zoro for a long moment after his question. Zoro kept staring at his dark and sunken eyes, clutching Sanji’s flowers in his hand.

“No,” Brook replied. “Not really.”

Zoro felt his chest constrict, as despair filled him. He glanced away but nodded.

“But you’re stronger than I am Zoro,” Brook said, after yet another long moment. “I’m sure you will not be the same as me. It will perhaps be easier for you over time. I will admit that the feelings are less ... fresh then they were. But they are still present. They never go away.”

Zoro nodded again, Brook squeezed his arm, and then headed down the hill.

Zoro watched him go for a moment, a skinny skeletal old man, among rows and rows of graves.

He shivered and turned back to Sanji’s head stone.

It still felt so wrong to say those words together. Sanji’s name didn’t belong on a grave. He’d been so young, so strong. And so loved…

Zoro sat down across from him and laid the flowers on the ground.

The bouquet was filled with Sanji’s favorite flowers. Blue violets and moss roses. Sanji had always had them for their every anniversary. Zoro guessed it was because Sanji saw both of them in the flowers, Sanji in the violets and Zoro in the moss.

But Zoro had never asked him about it. He had just rolled his eyes at the stupid bouquet that had always been thrust in his face. He’d never asked what kind of flowers they were or listened when Sanji told him their names.

And now he would never know what Sanji had been thinking when he put the flowers together.

Zoro sighed as he stared at the grave in front of him with slight trepidation. He slumped forward, shifting slightly to his meditation pose.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

It had been a long time since he’d talked to Sanji.

When he’d visited the grave before he hadn’t been able to say anything. He’d only been able to stand there, and sob.

Now though, he was stronger. And he wanted to talk to his cook.

He swallowed thickly and finally spoke.

“Hey shit cook,” he said softly. His voice felt rather loud in the empty graveyard.

The grave stone said nothing back. Obviously. Zoro wasn’t expecting that. He’d be worried if it did.

But the silence just felt so... final.

The shit cook, always, _always,_ responded back to him. They were always verbally sparring if they weren’t physically fighting.

And yet only Zoro’s words hung in the air sounding unfinished and broken.

Zoro took another deep breath.

“So … what’s it like being worm food?” Zoro said next and cringed slightly at his own words.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from letting out a slightly broken sob and straightened in his pose.

“I... I’m sorry I haven’t been around very much,” Zoro continued. “I’ve been…I’ve been trying to process it all cook. Process… life without you.”

The silence was still so thick.

Zoro bit his cheek again.

He almost wanted to stop. It felt too wrong to sit here talking to the cook, without talking to the cook. He wished Sanji were here with him.

He snorted at the thought.

He knew it was beyond ridiculous for him to wish that Sanji was here to help him get through Sanji’s death. He _knew_ that, but every fucking step of the way, the accident, the funeral, the empty apartment, the depression, going back to work, the anniversaries, his friends sad faces… all of it, Zoro wished the cook were with him to sort through it all. Zoro wished he could have reached out and taken Sanji’s hand for an encouraging squeeze. Wished he could have told Sanji all his pain and suffering and watched as Sanji would have listened, his blue eyes dark with understanding. He wished he could have Sanji cook him comfort food and make him tea without him asking for it. He wished he had Sanji just be _here_ with him.

It seemed like such a tiny thing to ask the universe. To have someone present. To have them beside someone else for a little while more. What Zoro wouldn’t give to just have Sanji for a few seconds more.

But he’d thought the same thing when Kuina had died… more or less.

And he’d gotten through that, all by himself. He had been even more alone back then.

Now he had friends, who shared in his grief. Brook. Nami. Chopper. Usopp. Robin. Franky. Jinbe.

Luffy.

“Everyone misses you,” Zoro said quietly. “I miss you. I wish you were here… but you’re not.”

Silence again. Zoro breathed deeply.

“I was … really fucked up when you …  when you were gone cook,” Zoro admitted. Shame and guilt bubbling up in him like hot tea. “I couldn’t get rid of the apartment, so I just … wallowed in it. I got home from your funeral, and saw the empty apartment, and it was just so full of _you_. Everything in there you’d picked out, everything from the fucking paint on the walls, to the marble counter tops. I got so angry I punched the wall. And then I couldn’t bear to look at any of the stuff that showed you’d lived there. I packed away all your stupid decorative table ends, all your cooking magazines, all our corny romance novels. I cleaned out all your suits, and your ties, your shoes, and your watches. I found all your secret stashes of cigarettes, all your cologne and put them in a place I could never smell or look at them again. Then I took all the pictures away, all your bed sheets, pillow cases, even the painting of that sea storm you really loved. Even the fucking notes you left on the counter, the notepads, the numbers you’d written down, everything. I just couldn’t look at it. …

But then I got to the kitchen.”

Zoro paused here. He ran his fingers through his hair. He breathed deeply. He focused on his friends faces. He thought about what his therapist said about healthy grieving. He thought about Kuina.

He thought about the cook.

He breathed again.

He kept talking.

“I got to the kitchen, and I just… I thought about how much you loved that kitchen. I saw all the stupid labels you’d printed out, making sure everything was in place. I saw your half-written recipe on the counter, the spice rack you would always take out and reorganize every Saturday. I saw your stupid cleaning supplies you used on the stove and the fridge. And I saw the mug you’d picked out for me, the mug you picked out for you. And I kept thinking how I didn’t belong in there. How you’d kicked my ass if I packed all your shit away in the kitchen…

Don’t worry though,” Zoro interrupted himself again by smiling at the headstone. “I didn’t pussy out about the food in there. I packed it all up and gave it to Luffy. It wasn’t wasted. I at least did that for you…”

Zoro sighed for a moment. Staring straight at Sanji’s name carved in the stone.

He kept talking.

“I ended up just avoiding the kitchen. I couldn’t look at it. And after everything was all packed up. I felt almost worse. It was like I was in a stranger’s home, instead of ours. And sometimes I would wake up at night and forget that you were dead. And I’d reach over to touch you or pull you in towards me, ready to tell you about the nightmare I had that you were gone, but my hand would always touch nothing. And I remember it all over again. In those moments I would miss you so much, that I couldn’t’ breath. It felt… I can’t describe to you how it felt, Cook. It was the worst I’d ever felt. It was ... suffocating. In those moments… I would break into the boxes I’d packed away and pull out all your crap again. I’d pull out the ties and run my fingers over every pattern and every stitch, and remember you wearing them, on different occasions. I would take out your cigarettes, and light them outside the balcony and just inhale the sent of them. I’d take out your pillow cases, and pour your expensive cologne on them, then sleep on them, as if you were still beside me. I’d look at the pictures of us, and hold them so hard that I broke most of the frames... and sometimes I’d even look in the kitchen and think of the way you’d-”

Zoro broke off again.

He felt tears sliding down his cheeks. He leaned forward, a broken sob escaping him.

“Damn it Cook,” he cried out. “Why’d you have to fucking leave?! Why didn’t you stay with me that night? You didn’t even work at the Baratie anymore. Zeff _told_ you they had things covered for the Christmas rush. You didn’t need to go in,” Zoro was sobbing now, but he couldn’t stop himself. He also couldn’t stop talking. Words that had been trapped inside him for a long time slipping out like a geyser bursting forth.

“If you had to go,” he croaked. “Why didn’t you _take me with you?_ I could have protected you! I could have helped you! Why didn’t you drag my ass out of bed to insist on me coming along? Why didn’t-” His sobs were coming too hard now to get out the words. The next words. The words that had been spiraling in the darkest parts of his heart ever since he’d gotten a phone call from Ace, about the Baratie burning to the ground…

“Why – why didn’t- why _didn’t I save you?_ ” Zoro sobbed, finally. “Sanji- I’m – I’m so sorry- Sorry I – I didn’t save you. Sorry that I – I failed you-”

Zoro couldn’t go on. He buried his face in his hands, and let the tears fall.

And after a while he was able to calm himself for a moment. And when he looked up, he realized that there wasn’t silence anymore on the evening air.

Instead of silence… there was music.

It drifted over top of the graves and was sad and deep. It must have been Brook playing, probably a song at another head stone. But Zoro couldn’t see him over the dips and curves of the graveyard. All he saw was Sanji’s head stone, and he finally felt like he was getting an answer back.

Zoro smiled, wiping the tears from his face.

“This mean you forgive me? Or that you’re saying there was nothing to forgive and I’m a dumbass?”

The music grew in crescendo. Zoro smirked wider.

“If I’m a dumbass, then so are you Curly.”

The music drifted into a quickened pace.

Zoro laughed lightly under his breath. He collapsed forward into himself.

“I think… I think that I’m going to be OK now... Sanji,” he said quietly.  “I think we all are... it’ll be hard, and Brook said it never gets easier. But its not like I’m not used to hard shit, and its not like I’m not used to a challenge.”

He looked up at Sanji, through his lashes, and gave the head stone his demonic grin.

“And I don’t plan on losing to you now Sanji. You’ll fucking see love cook. Just you wait and see.”

* * *

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.” ~ Norman Cousins

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed my first fanfic :) Feel free to let me know what you think <3


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